Stigmatized
by autumnconfusion
Summary: One Shot. Snippets of Remus' and Sirius' life after the Potters are killed up until Sirius escapes from Azkaban. Idea of Sirius/Remus, however not explicit together in the story.


**Title**: Stigmatized  
**Author**: autumnconfusion  
**Pairing**: Remus/Sirius (However, there is no explicit moment with them together – meaning, it's as sweet and innocent as a baby. SORRY!)  
**Summary**: Snippets of Remus' and Sirius' life after the Potters are killed up until Sirius escapes from Azkaban.  
**Rated**: M - just to be sure.  
**Word Count**: 2.986 (I know, it's pathetic!)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Remus or Sirius. If I would, they would still be alive but unfortunately J.K. Rowling claims that right.  
**Warnings**: None…  
**A/N**: I've been struggling with a writer's block for over two years so this is nothing big but still something I'm proud of. I wrote it during a night two months ago, something that hasn't happened since I was seventeen so it made me foolishly happy when it happened! Don't Judge too harshly! Hope you will all like it! Enjoy.

- **Stigmatized **–

_It shouldn't have ended like this. It was supposed to be different, better. The future they had dreamt of no longer existed. Their life had finished in cruelty. It would never be the same again. Ever._

It was dark and silent apart from the shuffling of prisoner's feet that caused the chains between his handcuffs to clatter and echo against the bricks of the wall. He was guided towards his cell, the place he was forced to call his new home for the rest of his life, by two creatures that could barely be distinguished from the darkness; not that he needed to see them to know they were there. He could feel their presence every time he inhaled the cold air of despair or heard cockroaches scurry for shelter as soon as they came closer. His heart felt empty; there were no happy memories left because of their presence, only providing him access to every bad thing he'd ever done, to every moment of guilt, regret and pain. He could feel their power on his soul, forcing him to be locked up inside his head and he shuddered, knowing that this was only the beginning of a lifelong torturous imprisonment. He wanted to escape but he couldn't find the strength to turn around and fight against the doom that had slowly started to wave its dangerous web inside his mind. Slowly, but effectively, driving him insane. The need to escape vanished entirely the moment he was inside his cell, guarded by six of these monsters that sucked all happiness out of him. He had never been scared before but when one of them lowered the cape covering its face – if that's what he could call it – and bent over him to suck, he screamed.

_Everything was different. He had nothing left but the memories from his life before and the pain and anger from the new one. He was empty inside, dead. He had trusted his friends, never doubted their loyalty but today, he was angry. They had left him behind. Everyone but him was gone and he was stuck with the pain and the isolation they had promised he would never have to face. Because of him._

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below the small window was lost to him. He was stuck inside the memory of his friends' death. The part of the house that had been blown away by the powerful spell, repeated over and over again inside his head. The memory of him running inside and falling over the dead body of his best friend, his brother in so many ways but not by blood. The broken cry when he faced the stunned face. Hands grabbing the cold face, the realisation he was dead slowly sinking. Then, the cry of a baby that was coming from upstairs, forced his thoughts away from the dead body. Letting go of the limp body, he hurried up the stairs and stepped over the bedroom door lying flat on the ground, the sound of breaking glass underneath his shoes as he rushed towards the sound. His godson was crying from somewhere deep inside the ruins, breaking his heart. This was his fault. They were dead. Harry would never know his parents. Because of him.

_Why was everyone happy? Why did everyone tell him he should be happy too? Didn't they realise that his two best friends had been murdered by the most feared wizard of the century and another had been killed by – by _him_? Had they already forgotten that his best friend had betrayed him and everyone else? The one person he had thought would never turn to the dark side was the one person who had done just that and ruined everything. He had been his best friend, his lover and his partner. He had trusted him. They had trusted him. Why would he be happy? How could he be happy? Would he ever be again?_

His eyes were closed while his head rested against the damp bricks. The wind outside was fierce, carrying the salty air inside his cell. He had never seen the sea until he had been brought to this place and now; he hated it more than anything else. What he once believed to be representative of freedom meant nothing but imprisonment to him now. He hated this place, hated the constant feeling of being empty. He didn't want to face another memory he regretted. He was tired of the yells reaching his ears and the shudder of disgust following next. He knew what the yells meant and he refused to go back to that. He forced himself not to be happy for the slightest moment every time they were too busy to guard him. He thought of everything he had seen again during his stay, thought of the meaning and wished he could go back in time, change them and make sure they all knew he hadn't meant for it to end like this. He wished he knew. He would have died for them instead of betraying them. Instead, he had changed his mind and talked James into making Peter the secret keeper. Peter, who had always been the silent, loyal friend; not too bright but worshipping them and the ground they walked on. He had believed that Peter wasn't the traitor; he had believed Remus had been the one. It fitted so well. A werewolf wasn't to be trusted. Now it seemed that everything he had once known and believed in was a lie. It shouldn't have kept him away from what he felt. How could he have made this mistake? Would they ever know the truth? Would Remus ever be able to forgive him for believing he had been the betrayer?

_He feared the moon more than he had ever done before. There had been a time when he didn't know what it was like to be supported and cared for by strangers and he had faced the moon every month as an unwelcome disease back in those days, but a part of his life nevertheless. They had changed it into one of the happiest moments of the month. He had looked forward to running through the Forbidden Forest while having his friends by his side. He no longer minded going through the ache of breaking bones if it meant they'd be with him before, during and after the transformations. He was alone now. There weren't any jokes about his furry little problem now. There won't be a playful dog challenging him to go further than he would ever have dreamt of. He won't wake up in a warm bed, a steaming cup of tea on his bedside table and the man he had loved so much next to his body underneath the duvet. He was going to wake up cold, alone and in pain. He wasn't ready, wasn't sure he would ever be, to face the full moon alone again. Not now he knew a different kind of life.  
He was standing at the window, staring at the clouded night. He couldn't see the moon but he didn't have to, to know the moon was waxing closer to its full position. He felt the monster inside growing stronger every day. He was tired. Seventy-three full moons alone since October nineteen-eighty-one. His face was scarred, his body was scarred and he felt old, looked older than twenty-seven. He wanted Sirius. He needed him so badly – if there could only be a mistake. If only he was free of guilt. He didn't want to be alone anymore. He wanted his friends to talk to, to discuss with, and to laugh with. He wanted to hear James' voice telling him how Harry was exactly like him. Damn it! He wanted to hear Lily tell him he should stop thinking of the past and move on. He wanted nothing more than to have Sirius with him now, to have his arms wrapped around his waist and his head resting on his shoulder, asking him what he was thinking of and Remus wouldn't answer because Sirius would know that it was the full moon, know that he missed everyone, know that he would forgive Sirius, would want to forgive him. The thought made him sick. How could he forgive the murderer of his friends? But he needed him so much. He was the only one still alive who knew him better than anyone else. He couldn't give up on him, no matter how much he wanted to. It was his only connection to better days, to better memories, to the past he cherished so much. He needed Padfoot._

A bright light woke him up. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out where it came from until his eyes focused on the small window. His heart sank when he saw the silver moon high in the dark sky, his thoughts immediately going to Remus. Looking over his shoulder, he saw _them_ outside his cell but they didn't seem to notice he had woken up. Quietly, he shuffled closer towards the window. He hadn't moved so much during the few weeks he had been locked up in here and he quickly realised how much strength it caused to fight against the fog inside his head, demanding him to go back to a horrible memory. Once he reached the wall with the window, he pulled himself up on the thick bars and clung onto it for life. His body was exhausted, trembling from the energy he had needed to come this far but the moon made him feel stronger. It reminded him there was someone out there who needed him more than anyone else. His survivor's instinct took over as his heart ached to be there, to change and to love Moony. He knew Moony needed that and without realisation, he changed inside that cell and became the Padfoot he was meant to be.

_Life spiralled downwards. He was facing the future he had dreaded as a child, the future he had forgotten once he had found the best friends in the world. No one wanted him, didn't know he had fought in the war to make their world a better place to live in, didn't care his friends were the famous Potters who made it all end. He was nothing without them supporting him, to tell him not to listen to the names they called him but to fight for what he believed was right. His ambition, so strong a few months ago, had died. He had to forget the naïve life he used to live. He was the outcast he was meant to be again, struggling to survive. This was his reality now. The memory only a false pretence of what could have been._

He felt different when he wasn't in his human form, felt the fog lift long enough for him to reason, to be human again, even if his thoughts were primal in this state. It gave him enough strength to eat and because of that, he was able to hear and understand what was going on inside the prison. He saw people entering alive, only to be carried outside dead a year, or even less, later. It made him realise he had to survive this, had to fight the fog more than ever if he wanted the truth to be known, if he wanted Peter to get caught. He only changed to his human form when he was asleep or when he heard visitors in the distance. No one was allowed to know his ability to change; it was his only chance to survival. Every now and again when he recognised someone of the Ministry, he made them stop and asked if he could have the Daily Prophet if they carried it; his excuse? He wanted to solve the crosswords but in reality he wanted to stay up to date with the world outside. Everything seemed peaceful with the darkest wizard of their time being defeated, though he believed he hadn't left for real but was only waiting to come back when he was strong enough. He knew too much about the Dark Arts to believe he was truly gone.

_Hollow. Godric's Hollow. The town he had avoided for years. It had ended here, all of their lives had in this town. He looked at the statue in front of him. He saw James and Lily smiling – he had forgotten they used to smile a lot - even during the dark times – and then, baby Harry; a young teenager now. He would never know his parents; never know that one of their best friends had been the reason of their absence. It was the first time he thought of Harry, he realised and felt ashamed. He blamed Sirius. How could he have missed the signs? Why had he been blind for so long? He should have seen it coming. He should have known that something had been off with them for quite a while. How could he have been so stupid to love a traitor? He never made it to their graves. The pain was too heavy to bear._

He had waited days for the perfect moment. Night had fallen a few hours ago and everything had been unusually quiet for a while now. He slowly opened his eyes and stopped the pretence he was asleep. It was a new moon tonight, making his cell darker than the shadows. All was going to plan. While he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he listened and heard nothing but the waves crashing against the rocks outside. His heart jumped excitedly inside his chest when he realised there were no guards outside his cell, probably off to somewhere else. This was his chance. He had to change now. And so he did. Everything became instantly less complicated. His thoughts were reduced to finding a way out, to finding the traitor and killing him. He stepped in between two bars and couldn't believe his luck. It was a matter of smelling his way out to freedom now. He ran past a few of _them_ and laughed silently at their inability to only feel and not see. He knew they could sense him but he was not human now, they just thought he was an animal, something not worth to turn around for and suck. He was outside and stood still for a second as the wind caressed his face. He inhaled the salty air before he ducked into the cold water. He was finally free. Free to make justice happen. Free to kill _him_.

_He woke up in sweat, blood rushing through his veins as he panted. The Evening Prophet lay on the floor with Sirius' face on the cover with headline: BLACK BREAKS OUT AZKABAN. He had dreamt of him, dreamt of the days before his capture when they had lived not with each other but next to each other. The pressure had increased when James had talked to them, informing them there was a leak and that he had evidence it was one of them. The first feeling of being an outcast laid heavy on his chest when three pairs of eyes looked at him for the slightest moment but Remus, who knew he wasn't the leak, had noticed who had avoided everyone's eyes for the rest of the evening. He argued with Sirius the next evening, hurt that he had lost Sirius' trust and left, deciding he would find proof that it wasn't him, that it was Peter. When he returned a few weeks later, Sirius refused to talk to him, only mentioned that James and Lily were safe now and that he didn't need to know more. Remus knew what that meant, they had discussed the plan months before they knew there had been a leak. It meant that they had used the Fidelius Charm. He had asked if Sirius was the secret keeper but he had ignored the question until he had shouted whether he was the secret keeper or not, he'd have to kill him before he would find out. He knew Sirius suspected him and it hurt but there was no time to explain everything. He tried to find out as hard as he could but the more he did, the more Sirius grew agitated with him for all the wrong reasons. Remus only wanted to make sure it wasn't Peter. He had no evidence so couldn't discuss it with Sirius, not wanting to blame someone falsely just based on his instincts but he didn't have to prove it in the end. He had been so wrong. A few days later it was all over. It hadn't been Peter. It had been Sirius. Yet, until today, he still wondered where the signs had been that could have told him it wasn't Peter but his lover.  
He tried to find a reason why he shouldn't have trusted Sirius. Had he truly been blind with love and trust, the same love and trust Sirius had seemed to ignore so easily when he had screamed his suspicions? There was still a little voice telling him he didn't want to believe it had always been Sirius, he couldn't believe it had been him but all evidence was against him. He had been the only one who had known where the Potters were hidden, was the only one who was closest to James, like a brother. His real brother had been a Death Eater until it was rumoured he was killed by one of his own kind. His family was famous for their pureblood, their family motto: tumours purr. He had murdered Peter when the little man had tried to duel Sirius for what he'd done. There had been so many witnesses. He was guilty. There was no mistake, was there?_


End file.
